


Coalescence

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Fiction, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-10
Updated: 2004-09-10
Packaged: 2018-11-20 12:20:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11335533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Mulder welcomes Alex.





	Coalescence

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Coalescence

### Coalescence

#### by Marcia Elena

  


Title: Coalescence 

Author: Marcia Elena 

Email: 

Keywords: M/K, Slash, Krycek POV 

Summary: Mulder welcomes Alex. 

Sequel to Quintessence. Sorry, folks, you need to read it to understand this one. Fortunately for you, it's short. ;-) 

Written for the 1st M/K Wheel, the 'Wheel of Love', March 2004. 

Rating: NC-17 for m/m sex 

Spoilers: Uhm, well, this is pretty much AU. But assume all events as they happened in the show up until RatB. It definitely veers off at the end of that episode. If you've read 'Quintessence', AS YOU SHOULD, you'll know what I'm talking about. LOL. 

Warning: Possible schmoop ahead. I'd beg for forgiveness, but we can't have a Wheel of Love without some schmoop, now, can we? ;-) 

Disclaimer: Mulder and Krycek could never belong to me or anyone else except each other. The only profit is theirs. 

Author's Notes: Late, as always. <g> Thank you to Jennie for the beautiful lyrics. I know my story doesn't do them justice, as hard as I tried. 

* * *

Coalescence  
by Marcia Elena 

The moon is about to set by the time I reach the motel, a mass of clouds moving in to hide its thin crescent, eerie dark shapes against the darker sky. The 'vacancy' sign blinks and hums noisily behind me as I push the door to our room open, breathing a sigh that is equal parts relief and exhaustion, glad to finally have arrived. I slide the bag I'm carrying to the floor, sagging against the closed door and letting my eyes slide shut for a moment. 

I could fall asleep right here, I silently tell myself. My next sigh turns into an exhalation of surprise as I feel the cold muzzle of a gun pressing firmly against my neck. Or I could die here. I open my eyes, only to blink dazedly as light suddenly floods the room. 

"Don't move," Mulder greets me. 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I rasp, not bothering to hide the tension I'm feeling. "It's me, Mulder." 

He thumbs off the safety. "Prove it." 

I laugh, a dizzy, humorless sound. "This proof enough for you?" I ask, unzipping my torn jacket to reveal my once white tee shirt, now stained and torn too. 

The suspicion on his face falls away at once, and he puts the gun down before pushing my jacket carefully off of me. "You're bleeding," he informs me as he peels off my shirt, inspecting my shoulder. 

"No shit." 

He flicks his eyes disapprovingly at me for a second, his fingers gently probing around the wound. "It's not deep. Looks like a bullet graze." 

"That's what it is," I tell him, flinching away from his touch. 

His eyes meet mine again, deep pools of hurt. I flinch away from his gaze as well, pushing past him in the direction of the bathroom, detouring to place my gun under my pillow first. I hear him follow me as far as the doorway, and I keep my back to him while I kick off my shoes and strip off my pants. 

"Why the hell did you sneak out on me, Alex? We were supposed to do this together," he reminds me, his angry tone colored by worry. He sighs, running a hand over his face, lowering his voice when he speaks again. "What happened? It shouldn't have taken you this long. I was expecting you to be back two days ago." 

I shake my head silently at him for a moment, swallowing past the sudden lump in my throat as I look at him over my shoulder. I knew he'd be angry for being left behind, but the genuine concern he's showing for me is confusing, awakening too much hope inside me. I clear my throat, doing my best to ignore the effect he's having on me. "There were two Consortium thugs waiting for me at the train station in Philly. They tried to corner me after I retrieved our bag from the lockers," I tell him, turning to face him in my socks and underwear, my hand moving to unstrap my prosthesis. "We might have to do with the money and IDs in this stash for a while. If they knew about this one, we have to assume they know about the others too." 

"Shit," he mutters under his breath. "Are you sure they didn't follow you here?" 

"Yeah, I'm sure, Mulder. No one knows we're here." 

"How sure?" he insists. 

I pull impatiently at my arm, the straps chafing against my wound. "I killed them." 

It's his turn to look relieved. "Here, let me help," he says as he steps into the bathroom, reaching for me. 

I take a step back. "I can do it." 

"No shit," he chuckles softly, echoing my earlier remark. He reaches for me again and removes my arm with measured, practiced motions. "There's nothing wrong with letting me take care of you sometimes, you know." He looks at my bloody shoulder, still holding my arm. "This needs to be cleaned up." 

I glare at him. 

He smiles and moves back, holding his hands up, trying to appease me. The sight of my prosthesis in his grip is somewhat incongruous, and I turn away from it and start the shower running. "Mulder, I don't know what crawled up your ass today, and I'm too exhausted to find out right now," I tell him as I sit on the toilet to take off my socks. "All I want is to shower and go to bed." 

His smile fades, and he looks hurt again. I clench my teeth and stand up, pushing down my underwear and stepping out of it, pointedly keeping my back to him again as I step into the shower. Anger bubbles up in me when I hear him retreat, and as with most everything that this man inspires in me, it's irrational and all consuming. Underneath the anger, I'm well aware that I'm the one putting up a wall between us this time, doing the very thing that stings me the most when I'm the one on the receiving end. I've learned to live with it, yeah, but I'm a fucking idiot; I shouldn't assume he'd take the same kind of treatment from me. He never has before. 

I shake, feeling cold under the hot water, pain and exhaustion and disappointment catching up with me. What the hell am I expecting from him? We're partners, maybe more intimate ones lately, but it's just sex. It's nothing more than that, as intense as it is. He doesn't need anything more from me. 

The hurt that flares in my gut is much worse than the pain in my shoulder, but I clamp it down. I always do. 

Nothing's changed between us, I repeat to myself, nothing at all. 

But the truth is, things have changed. He doesn't look at me with mistrust anymore. He's stopped asking why. 

Why. The little ritual we used to play, every night for months. And now I'm the one asking, even if only in my head. Why, Mulder? Why? 

I'm startled by his sudden presence beside me. Without a word he comes to stand under the spray with me, and I pull back again, as far as the small space will allow. I watch him watching me, my back against the cool tiled wall, trying to gauge his mood. For once his eyes are unreadable as they slide over my body, and I return the favor, lacking the strength to resist any longer, my breath catching by the beauty of him. When I return my gaze to his face I find him looking at me, a slight smile gracing his lips. 

"Come here," he says hoarsely, pulling me to him and covering my mouth with his. Our bodies collide and stay, and the feel of him naked against me is almost more than I can bear. He grunts as his tongue finds mine, a sound that is half pleasure, half need, and the anger in me starts to melt away. 

The kiss ends, both of us panting for breath. He reaches for the soap, working up a lather then proceeding to wash me from head to toe, his hands slippery as they move over me. He hesitates when he reaches my stump, and I feel a lump forming in my throat again. In all the time since we've started this partnership, he's never asked me about the arm, never allowed his touch to linger over it. 

Fuck, I'm tired. I don't know if I can cope with this tonight. 

"May I?" he asks gently. All I can do is nod, afraid of how my voice might sound if I speak. He touches me with infinite care, then, washing me, stroking me, and I know his astounding mind is memorizing each and every imperfection, his fingers reading me like Braille. I wonder what meanings are being revealed to him. 

"Does it hurt?" he asks, his voice curious yet kind. 

"Sometimes," I shrug, not wanting to say too much. 

He holds my eyes with his for a long moment, looking at me with the softest gaze I've ever seen him direct at me, as if with one word I've given him the key to myself. And maybe I have. He's Mulder, after all. 

His throat works and his lips part, but he doesn't say anything. My heart pounds in my chest, squeezing when he lowers his eyes from mine and returns his attention to my stump. I close my eyes and will myself to relax under his touch, gasping only slightly when he probes around my wound again. 

Suddenly his mouth is on mine again, hot, possessive, and I have to reach for him to keep my balance; I groan, burying my fingers in his hair, holding on tightly to him as he kisses me, deep and slow and sure. He starts mapping every other scar on my body, his hands moving over me with confidence and care, almost tender. Still kissing me, over and over again, as if he'd collapse without my breath. I tremble against him, wanting more, wanting less -- because as good as it feels, I'm also frightened, terrified. He's unraveling me, cracking me open once more, and I'm allowing him to. 

I feel desire stir inside me despite my fatigue, and I kiss him harder as he pushes us both under the spray again, the water rinsing me, washing us clean, the last dregs of my anger going down the drain with the suds. I break the kiss, dizzy and gasping, looking at him, licking my lips as he lowers his gaze to them. 

"Let's go to bed," I rasp, turning around to shut the water off. The twitch of his cock against me as he embraces me from behind is all the answer I need. 

He wraps me in a towel and guides me out of the bathroom, making me sit down on the bed. "Don't move," he orders, a tentative smile tugging at his lips. 

"I don't need you to mother me," I protest half-heartedly as he places our first aid kit beside me, rummaging through it. He kneels between my legs to start treating my wound, and I force myself to sit still, my hand gripping the edge of the mattress, the heat of his body so close to mine making me light headed, increasing my arousal, my voice sounding rougher than usual when I speak again. "That's not what I want from you." 

"Finally, an admission," he murmurs, and I can tell he's avoiding my eyes as he keeps his fixed on my shoulder. "What do you want from me, Alex?" he asks after a charged moment of silence, flicking his eyes at me only long enough to see me looking at him. 

I don't answer, my heart in my throat. He purses his lips, no trace of a smile left on his face now. I swallow painfully, looking away as he finishes bandaging my shoulder. When he's done he gets up and goes to check the door, retrieving his gun and turning off the lights, putting the first aid kit away. I remain sitting on the bed, listening as he lays his gun on his nightstand, watching from the corner of my eye as he starts pacing in front of me, the blinking neon outside spilling in through the thin curtains and painting him in garish hues. 

"Why did you go without me?" he tries. "You've never ditched me before." I only shake my head at that, still not looking fully at him, and he lets out a sigh of exasperation, kneeling in front of me again, reaching to cup my chin, making me face him. "Why?" 

His question runs a shiver through me, one that I can't suppress. He pulls his hand away, but keeps holding my gaze, waiting. My eyes burn, and I let out a short, nervous laugh. "Not too long ago you wouldn't have been this patient with me," I tell him, lifting my hand to his shoulder, running my thumb over the small puckered scar there, keeping my voice low in an attempt to take the sting out of my words. 

"I can punch you if that's what'll make you talk," he retorts, not without humor. 

I smirk at him, then shake my head again. "I couldn't-" I clear my throat, swallowing before I start again. "I can't always protect you when you're out there with me." 

"Protect me?" he asks incredulously, and I can hear the anger back in his tone, barely restrained now. "I don't need you to mother me either, Krycek. I think I'm capable of taking care of myself." 

"But I'm the one who dragged you into this mess!" I fairly shout at him, my hand tightening around his shoulder. "I destroyed your life, Mulder, I can't let them take what's left of it from you." 

"I can make my own decisions," he tells me, his voice dangerously low, his muscles tensing visibly as he brings his face closer to mine, making my breath turn shallow. 

"All I want is to keep you safe. They were waiting for us this time, you could've-" 

"I could've watched your back while you watched mine." 

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. I know he's right, but I can't bring myself to say it. Because I know I'm right, too. 

His hands settle on my hips, his fingers lightly tracing my skin above the towel. "Say it," he whispers, lowering his eyes to my lips. 

I shiver again, feeling dizzy as I try to breathe. What does he want me to say? How much do I want to tell him? "I can't lose you," I finally whisper back to him. 

"And what makes you think I can lose you?" he asks, raising his eyes to mine once more. His voice is hushed, twisting my insides, making my heart beat too fast. "How safe do you think I'd be without you, Alex?" Then, quieter still, "How sane do you think I'd be?" 

I make a strangled sound, blinking tears out of my eyes. I don't know who moves first, but all at once we're kissing, our mouths fused together, and he's ripping the towel off of me, pushing me back onto the bed. His body is hot against mine, his frantic heartbeat echoing my own, both of us shaking with pent-up need, sparks of electricity jumping between us. I hiss with pleasure as he knees my legs apart and grinds his hips against mine, our erections rubbing together, making me shake harder. 

"Mulder," I gasp against his lips, kissing him again, tangling my fingers in his hair. He moans into my mouth, and the sound is like liquid fire pouring into me, lapping at my insides. I tug his head back, sucking on the throbbing artery in his throat as he bares his neck to me, sinking my teeth into him, flicking my tongue at his skin. 

He shifts against me, reaching for my hand and pulling it from his hair, holding it down above my head as he grinds his hips harder against mine. "Don't leave me again," he rasps, pinching my nipple, my body arching into his, our fingers lacing together. "Say it, Alex. Please say you'll never leave me." 

I arch my back again, rocking under him, my eyelids heavy as I look at him. "I'll never leave you," I breathe, my heart beating faster. I wrap one leg around his thigh to hold him to me, circling my hips and thrusting up against him, the friction making me burn, need and feeling stealing my reason, and I want to scream it loud and clear, never, forever, but my voice is gone too, and all I can do is move with him, my eyes sliding shut, my whole being straining towards him, Mulder, please, oh please... 

I sob incoherently as I come, heat spurting between us, and Mulder bruises my mouth with his, taking what's left of my breath. "Alex," he sobs with me, releasing my hand, pressing his body hard against mine then breaking our kiss, pulling back. 

I open my eyes and find him looking at me, but before I can say anything he trails his fingers through my cum and brings them to my entrance, pressing into me, stretching me, more heat flaring inside me as he rubs my prostate. I let out a ragged cry, bearing down on his fingers, trembling with anticipation. 

He pulls out of me and uses my cum again to slick his cock, his eyes locked on mine. He grabs my hips and pushes into me, hard, forcing me open, pulling back and thrusting in again, harder, going deeper in with his next thrust. I move with him again, letting him take me, my shoulder throbbing as he fucks me, my heart aching. He pulls me to him as he thrusts, over and over, impaling me with his cock, holding me with his eyes, and too soon he's coming as well, spilling himself into me, moaning wordlessly as he collapses on top of me. 

I thread my fingers through his soft damp hair, fighting the drowsiness I feel, trying to catch my breath. Mulder shivers against me as I slide my hand down his back; I don't stop, tracing each of his scars the way he traced mine, licking the sweat off his shoulder. Our bodies are pressed so close together that I feel his nipples tightening against my skin. 

He raises his head from my neck and finds my lips with his, kissing me, groaning as he pulls out of me. He settles against me again, rocking slowly, urging me to rock with him. My body pulses in time with his heartbeat as he strokes me, imitating me, fingers running over my scars again, our kisses trying to reach the invisible ones, honey-sweet pleasure flowing between us, thick and languid, until we're both drunk with it. 

Tired as I am, the intimacy of this act is not lost on me; in a way, it's a knowing more profound than sex. 

Lovemaking, my mind whispers, trying the word for the first time. 

"Mulder," I say out loud, my heart accelerating, my arm tightening around him. 

"I know," he murmurs, his face pressed against my neck again. "I know." With a sigh he rolls off of me, pulling me close again when I roll to face him. 

"So I'll watch your back while you watch mine?" I whisper after a moment of silence, kissing him. 

"That's right," he tells me, kissing me back, smiling softly. 

"But we'll find time for this too," I go on, then elaborate. "Face to face." 

His smile widens. "Face to face." 

"And we'll save the world." 

"Piece of cake," he chuckles, looking at me, his smile slowly fading as I stroke his jaw with my fingers, his gaze on mine turning solemn, hopeful and afraid, mirroring my heart. "We can do it," he swallows. "Together..." 

His voice catches when he speaks, making it impossible to tell if it's a question or an assurance. But I answer him anyway. "Together." 

And I know we're both right. 

* * *

End

* * *

Come go with me - The Del Vikings 

Love, love me darlin'   
Come and go with me,   
Please don't send me   
'way beyond the sea;   
I need you, darlin',   
So come go with me. 

Come, come, come, come,   
Come into my heart,   
Tell me, darlin',   
We will never part;   
I need you, darlin',   
So come go with me. 

Yes, I need you,   
Yes, I really need you,   
Please say you'll never leave me.   
Well, say, you never,   
Yes, you really never,   
You never give me a chance. 

Come, come, come, come,   
Come into my heart,   
Tell me, darlin',   
We will never part;   
I need you, darlin',   
So come go with me.   
  

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Marcia Elena


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